


Hell Hath No Fury

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Jealousy, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:58:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amaimon has never been good at sharing. Especially not when what he's supposed to share is his elder brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ragged, labored breathing was the only discernible thing in the room. It was too dark to see, and Amaimon was alone, with only his own dysfunctional respiratory system for company.

_He should be here with me._

Normally, Amaimon could understand his brother being late back from work. Advising the king was not an easy job, even for the most senior of his advisers, and theirs was a very temperamental monarch. His brother was often at court for longer than he was supposed to be.

But court was only held once a week.

Mephistopheles had been out late every night for the past two and a half months.

If his brother was working late, Amaimon would stay up and wait for him. Mephisto would come home, apologize for being late, make dinner for the both of them (even though Amaimon had almost certainly already eaten by then), and then read or play chess with Amaimon until it was time for his ailing brother to go to bed. That was their routine. It had been that way since their parents had died and Mephistopheles had taken a full-time job as adviser to the king.

Lately, Mephisto had been out so late, Amaimon would be asleep well before his brother's return, the only indication of which was that a blanket was usually draped over him when he woke in the morning, half the time to an empty apartment again.

But not tonight. Tonight, Amaimon was determined to stay awake until Mephistopheles walked in the door.

It was only half past the time when his eyes usually started to drift shut that he realized that sitting still didn't help his resolve. He sighed out a wheezy, creaky groan and snapped his fingers, eyes darting about the room as small flames roared to life in the sconces scattered along the walls. Another snap of his fingers, and his breathing eased as his lungs, damaged from years of breathing in his own poisonous breath, were healed just enough to allow him to get to his feet without too much trouble. He sighed, then made his way back to what was designated a spare room when they moved in, but had long since been fashioned into Amaimon's personal study. He figured he might as well do something while he waited.

He opened the door and flicked his wrist, and, just as in the room now behind him, the wall sconces lit themselves, sparkling cheerfully on the room filled with neatly-labeled boxes, shelves of ancient grimoires, and with a large, intricate circle of symbols and runes carved into the hardwood floor. He'd told his brother, who concerned himself more with magic that could be performed on the fly, that the circle was just a seal to protect him while he was in the apartment, whether from outside threats or his own destruction. And it did have some protection runes worked in, just in case his brother bothered to look for any. It just also happened to be for more general uses. Like, say, preparing spells and charms he could use to track something.

Something like his brother.

It wasn't a difficult spell to cast, really. The tricky part was deciding what to cast it on. A simple piece of paper would be both suspicious and too easily lost, and his brother wasn't one to wear jewelry. But, if Amaimon's memory served correctly, Mephistopheles would certainly carry around a token given to him by his beloved baby brother for any purpose under the sun. He was terribly gullible that way.

A simple figurine would be easiest, Amaimon decided as he raided his boxes of supplies, trying to find the one filled with little trinkets meant for just such a purpose. It could be easily carried around, and it would be inconspicuous enough so as not to draw any unwanted attention to itself. He'd used something similar before, as his first foray into magic tied to an object, to create a lucky charm of sorts for one of his less physically-coordinated friends. He could easily tell Mephistopheles it was simply another one of those, to protect him while he was off doing... whatever it was. Hell, he could actually do it, and simply work in a tracking spell underneath layers of luck spells. He smiled to himself as he found a small stone chimera and turned to walk back inside the circle. This would be too easy.

It was almost laughably simple to charm the tiny statue so that it would both bring luck to and track the bearer, even if it did take an hour longer than a normal charm would take due to the amount and complexity of spells he had to place on it. He couldn't risk using just one luck spell to hide the tracker- his brother was foolish, but not that foolish. If he stopped to inspect his little brother's handiwork, he'd find the tracker in a matter of minutes. No, Amaimon had to use as many extra luck spells as he could, without diluting the strength of the spell that truly mattered, in order to properly hide his true intent. Otherwise he'd never find out what his brother was up to. If his brother were to discover the tracker, it would be all too easy for him to drop the little statue down a chasm and claim it had fallen out of his pocket.

Amaimon had just closed the final piece of his magic and retrieved the statue from inside the circle when he heard the door creak open in the other room. _Just in time_. A minute earlier, and his brother would have arrived to interrupt delicate spellwork. And Amaimon's sorcery rarely reacted kindly to unwelcome interruptions. Just thinking of it caused Amaimon to rub his right forearm with a grimace, remembering the burn he'd received there when he hadn't taken precautions to avoid being walked in on while setting security spells. He opened the door to his workroom to find his brother reaching for the door, a startled look flashing into his eyes as he stepped back. "Oh, you're awake?"

Showtime. Amaimon ducked his head, hiding his hands behind his back. "I was worried about you. You've been out late so much recently, I thought maybe you could use this." He held out his right hand, palm up, the newly-charmed figurine balanced precariously on the heel of his palm.

Mephistopheles took the statue between his thumb and index finger and held it up to the light, inspecting it as Amaimon continued, "I put a lot of luck spells on it. I didn't want you to get hurt when I could have done something to prevent it." The younger demon raised his head just enough to watch carefully for any sign that his brother had found the tracking spell.

Mephistopheles was silent for a moment, then smiled down at his brother. "I am truly gifted to have such a talented brother." He ruffled Amaimon's hair, then patted his back and added, "Now get to bed. It's far too late at night for you to be awake."

Amaimon smiled and lifted his arms to hug his brother around the neck and gently touch their foreheads together in a brief display of affection, then released him and slipped past him in the doorway to trot back to his bedroom. He had to work to tamp down a giddy laugh, though allowed a wide smile to cross his face. When he woke, he'd find out just where his brother had been vanishing off to.


	2. Chapter 2

When Amaimon woke once again to an empty apartment, he was disappointed for a moment- just long enough for his brain to wake up before remembering the tracking spell his brother had unknowingly accepted. He sat up with a rush of excitement the likes of which he hadn't experienced in years, practically bounced out of bed and had to stop himself from sprinting down the hall to his workroom. He didn't want to wear himself out before he could work any magic, and he knew from experience how draining magical tracking could get.

He opened the door to his workroom and strode inside, already halfway to the center of his circle by the time he started to light the wall sconces. Sure, he had all the time in the world, but this had been dragging on for months. It was high time he got to the bottom of his brother's behavior.

As he settled into a sitting position, it occurred to him that Mephistopheles only kept things from him when he was either ashamed, didn't want Amaimon to worry, or both, so perhaps he should stay out of it. That thought was quickly shoved away, to be replaced by a firm determination that when his brother let things drag on this long without even a simple "Things are fine, don't worry about me, I'll be okay," Amaimon had every right to investigate to the best of his ability. And as one of Hell's finest sorcerers, his ability stretched very far.

He breathed out slowly, whispering a quick incantation to dispel the poison away from him so as to minimize how much it would impact his ability to breathe properly and thus concentrate on his work, then closed his eyes. Now came the tricky part. The circle was linked to the statue, so finding it wasn't terribly hard. Pinning down a location was the difficult bit of the spell. He had to begin incredibly general, then gradually narrow the search until he could point out the statue's exact location on a map of the universe. He spun a loop of magic as wide as possible, then tossed it out and opened his eyes.

The room had melted away, replaced by a shimmering scale model of the universe in its entirety. The only trace of his workroom left was the pattern of his circle, glowing a faint blue around him as he got to his feet. Sitting down only allowed him to summon the model, not navigate it. The model would respond best to his movements if he was standing. With a wave of his hand, a speck of light pulsed red to indicate where his target was, and he tightened the loop to bring it closer into focus. In a matter of seconds, galaxies, solar systems, and planets rushed outward and away from him as the planet they dwelled on came into view.

To his surprise, the entire planet did not throb red, as it would have if his brother were within one of the pocket dimensions contained in and around it. Instead, a small circle enclosed most of- what was it called? Europe? Yes, Europe. A small circle of red was centered over Europe. Amaimon's brow furrowed slightly. What was his brother doing on the surface? He pinched his fingers together, then spread them apart, causing the model to expand while the circle shrank, and Amaimon followed the beacon down through the model's atmosphere to somewhere in the northern central part of the mainland, then into a small city, until he could set his feet down on the model and travel on foot to a large building not unlike a small palace. A mansion, that was the term. There were very few in Hell- there were either sprawling palaces, belonging to the royal family and those they favored and/or employed, or compact housing complexes that provided shelter and homes but only what extravagance could be afforded by individual residents. What mansions did exist were primarily underground fortresses carved out by Greed demons seeking extra security for their hard-won wealth. Whoever Mephistopheles was visiting here, they had money, and lots of it.

The beacon urged him forward, but Amaimon had seen enough to find his way again in reality. He glanced around him, committing the place to memory for later use, then waved a hand, dismissing the model. It quickly faded into a light mist, then disappeared altogether, giving way to the familiar enclosure of Amaimon's workroom. He clenched a hand to end the magic, then exhaled heavily as his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor, the strain of the magic he'd just worked finally setting in once the defense the circle provided was over.

He lay still for a few minutes, staring blankly at the wall as he let his body recover, then pushed himself up to a sitting position. He'd found where he needed to go, certainly, but he couldn't just run off blindly after his brother. He had no idea what Mephistopheles was up to, so he had to prepare. He'd need a lot of magic on-hand. Hiding, traveling, cloaking, perhaps even fighting- he had spells for all of them, but he couldn't just pull them up on a whim. He'd have to draw up circles to carry with him, imbue them with just enough magic that he could perform and end the spell with a single word or gesture... all manner of things. And that was just for the magic. He'd need to plan for if he got caught, as well.

He carefully crawled over to one of his bookshelves and used it to pull himself to his feet, leaning heavily on it as his legs trembled beneath him. This was no time to be sitting around. He had work to do.

The afternoon saw Amaimon working fervently on the spells he'd need for his investigation. By the time dinner rolled around, he'd filled a small satchel with a change of clothing, a bundle of food, and vials of potions that he'd learned over the years could help dilute his poison, and had carefully drawn a miniature replica of his magic circle on the side in fabric pen. He'd considered making individual circles for each spell, but, after a moment of thought, had realized that if he needed a certain spell quickly, he'd lose valuable seconds trying to locate the right scrap of paper. It would be impractical and a waste of time.

He was working so hard, he didn't realize what time it had gotten to be until his stomach rumbled loudly and almost painfully, and he winced. He sighed, then finished packing his satchel and drifted out of the room, locking the workroom door behind him with a wave of his hand. He was as ready as he could be, for now. He'd just have to be careful not to let Mephistopheles find out what he'd been working on.

To his irritation, he found he was too anxious to eat at his normal place at the extension of the kitchen counter that doubled as both a barrier separating the kitchen from the living room and an all-purpose table, so he took his meal of leftover stir-fry from two nights past, donned the mask that had been custom-engineered to prevent his breathing from spreading poison, and headed out into the halls to find somewhere he could eat.

He found his quiet eating place perched precariously atop a statue of the demon lord Behemoth as he had been in the legendary battle against Amon, an ugly piece of work depicting an ugly demon. Amaimon's tail curled around the statue's neck, helping him stay stabilized as his feet shifted periodically on the detailed texture of its curly hair. His mask, having been removed so he could eat, rested on one of his horns. Normally, he would have simply pulled the mask down to let it hang around his neck, but it was rather uncomfortable to try and eat with a stiff piece of metal impeding how far he could open his mouth.

As he ate, he watched the other demons of the palace meander by. For the most part, all he saw were servants, attending to their daily duties, though he noticed Abaddon and Azazel skitter past at least twice, probably preparing for some elaborate prank performed out of sheer boredom. He supposed he could have stopped them and asked what they were up to, but he didn't particularly care. He had more important things to worry about. Besides, he'd probably find out sooner or later anyway. Wherever those two went, trouble was never very far behind.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. _It's a Tuesday_. Tuesdays were court days. If he'd been able to locate Mephisto in the surface world, he certainly hadn't been in court.

Whatever was going on with his brother, Mephisto had been neglecting his duties for it.

His Majesty was _not_ going to be happy about this.


End file.
